


oceans

by mariabumby



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Fluff, Happy Ending, I'll get there, M/M, Slow Burn, bit of angst, flirting???, injury tag, they start out as strangers in this one, yahaba is a bestfriend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2018-12-18 01:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11863368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariabumby/pseuds/mariabumby
Summary: work in progress!guitarist iwaizumi and music producer oikawa for all the Music AU feels. A lot of chara mentions





	1. Chapter 1

\--

 

Iwaizumi Hajime stows the last equipment box in the back of the mini-van and slams it’s doors shut. He’s bone tired, lives a full hour away from the venue and his bandmates are probably half-drunk and nowhere in sight. Typical, impermanent wedding cover band has the 25 year old guitarist already mentally composing his break up text:

 

_...I know I said I’ll stay ‘til August - but Bokuto is insufferable.._

 

Or the reliable

 

_..I’m going to go out and try to make my own music…_

 

Or the truth which is

 

_..This is the fifth time I’ve quit a band in the year. I like you guys but I really think I work best on my own maybe freelance?.._

 

By the time has Iwaizumi has rounded around the car he meets eyes with Akaashi feet up, in the driver’s seat, bony fingers grasping a cigarette. Their eyes hold each other in regard, as if both reading off of each other’s and the band’s situation.

 

Iwaizumi, the wide shoulders-reliable type, just loaded up the equipment boxes of his own accord and had the full intention of depositing it back in the stockroom in time, drunk bandmates or not. Akaashi, lead singer, just handled the talent fee and has a week’s worth of food on the front seat courtesy of a very pleased bride.

 

Akaashi takes out Iwaizumi’s cut and then some more, and hands it to Iwaizumi through the window.

 

“I’ll take care of the others, you return the car?” he offers.

 

Iwaizumi stares at the hand.

 

“uh, that’s too much.”

 

“You were gonna quit right? Kuroo’s betting on next month but I’m betting on now. Did I get it right ?” Akaashi says it nonchalantly, like it really isn’t a big deal and would take zero offense in Iwaizumi quitting.

 

A pause. Iwaizumi pockets the money and they wordlessly switch places, Iwaizumi turning on the ignition, flipping on the headlights, then biting his lip.

“thanks?”

 

Akaashi looks up from his phone, he looks mildly pissed at the texts he got. Probably Kuroo, the singer takes another huff at his cigarette.

 

“You too Iwa, good luck out there” he mumbles and offers the other a sincere wave.

 

Iwaizumi sets off from the parking to an empty road in the eerily quiet morning, alone again.

 

-

 

A single naked voice, whispers into the shell of his ear.

  


_Ah. Music_

 

He thinks.

 

_Crystal waters_

 

Is the only way he can describe it.

  


He wakes up not remembering the words or the melody. Only that it felt soothing and that he’s dreamt of this before.

 

How can you miss a voice so much when you don’t even know who’s singing?

 

\---

 

“IWAIZUMI. HAJIME”

 

A piercing feedback noise.

 

“EARTH. TO IWA.”

 

“OI. ARE YOU EVEN TRYING!?!”

 

This whiny, petulant, completely soul grating voice attacks his right ear. Iwaizumi scrunches his face in disgust, his whole body taut and livid. He has music as both his life and profession - how dare anyone make such a god awful noise, his nails are digging into his guitar and he has nothing to fucking hit in this claustrophobic and ridiculously expensive recording booth.

 

“Could you _please_ , do that last rift more time iwaizumi _-san_ ” in the most ironic voice he’s ever heard in his ear ever.

 

“Yea yea” he mutters and anticipates the red of the recording light.

 

It feels like a bull’s cape, as Iwaizumi shreds out a mean rock verse.

 

A major energy drink  needs a new _EXCITING!_ score for their marketing campaign and it’s exactly the kind of canned genre gig the small production company is known for. Yes producer _-san_ , he can do a ‘bit of’ rock. He can wring out a “FUCK YOU” in melodic verse from his very body if it’s only the most primal, instinctual reaction to a shit voice in his ear. Iwaizumi heart is pounding out of his chest, he’s really feeling the sound right now. It’s electric, an auditory high - he’s definitely overdoing it. That’s ten bars over the improvisation. But he’s self conscious enough to pull out of the rhythm and give it a clean end.

 

The rec button is still blinking, currently recording. He turns around to the sleepless eyes of producer-san in thick glasses and the miserable hoodie. The damn guy was sneering at his laptop, stock still as if the reverb was still bouncing in the white head-set clamped on his two ears. Iwaizumi couldn’t get a read on this guy, should he be apologizing now? The statue then snaps out of it and leans into the microphone, as if breathing for the first time.

 

“Iwaizumi take five.”

 

\--

 

_later_

 

\--

 

Iwaizumi finds himself in the break room making his third cup of coffee out of sheer boredom. He’s done recording his bit for this long winding ensemble piece, but he has to wait for every instrument to finish, and a draft mix to be put together before he’s given the signal to go home. He’s working with a different producer today, AJ Rec+ has several and apparently he had already worked with one of the notorious ones - Oikawa Tooru unbeknownst to him during Energy Drink recording a few months before. Unorthodox but effective. He looked really young for a producer, and more tired than most. Iwaizumi would hate to admit it, but they wrung out a great score for that job.

 

“Hey-”

 

Matsuwaka, bassist from their high school band, tackles him like they haven’t seen each other in seven years. Because they really haven’t _seen in each other_ _in seven years_ and

 

“Woah- still such a grump huh!” he announces, digging his forefinger into Iwaizumi’s temple. The guitarist shrugs him off, all pissed and mean but is otherwise honestly happy to see him. They exchange details. Matsuwaka is apparently doing the base line for Kageyama Tobio’s first original- but recording is taking ages.

 

Iwaizumi has an ahh moment. That explains all the secrecy and the couple of stray paparazzi dotting the building gates.

 

Kageyama is the latest singing viral hit. Conservatory training, perfect pitch, this insane range from a mysterious young boy with black hair and blue eyes. He shredded a Bruno Mars cover song in an offhand grainy phone recording. He’s since been “discovered” and done his fair share of talk shows and late night TV. He’s painfully a mean kind of awkward in interviews, with talent that screams ‘stick him with a studio album fast’. And the greedy cash cows made sure of that, with AJ Rec+ being pressured into earlier and even earlier release dates. Composers are throwing a fit , selling song rights left and right. The producers are frankly all in living hell.

 

So that’s why he hasn’t been seeing Oikawa lately.

 

“Hey wanna hear the lead single?” Mattsun winks with a finger on his lips. He presents the sample track on his iphone.  

 

“It’s kind of - _amazing_ ” and Mattsun does his eye’s lighting , eyebrows waving believe me look. Which he uses too much but is earnest. Iwaizumi’s missed that look from their highschool days, when things were simple. They just had the band, music and volleyball.

 

It twists at Iwaizumi’s gut and he now had to grab the free earbud and stick it in his ear.

 

_Playing   Production sample - Oceans_

 

A single familiar voice.

 

Clear sweet water.

  
  


_...I left my heart wide open baby so I could let you swim…_

 

It wasn’t Kageyama’s.

 

“Hey who the hell”

 

“Shuttup,listen!” matsun scolds.

The song was like slow worship.

  


_..You left my body open to the under your skin ohh..._

..what sets the waves in motion baby, and now it’s sinking in…

 

_...Ba-by yoo---oou…_

 

_...you did me in. ._

 

An easy snapping rhythm, like stripped gospel.

A far off ocean current.

 

_...And now I’m falling…_

 

_..Back again_

_Back a-_

_Back a_

_Back -_

_Back a_

 

Digital echoes a swelling sound of arrival. First verse.

 

_..You got me oceans._

_...You got me oceans deep. .._

 

A second voice underscores the lead. aaaa-h

 

Iwaizumi is gone. He’s lost into the sound, spellbound with the tender accusations. He feels his shoulders relax, as if it was him in watery arms cooed into a haunting lullaby. He kind of wants to die at that moment, if you could put it that way. As if there was no moment after this voice or this sound. Iwaizumi felt hollow when the four minute track died with careful chords, as if the composer knew how raw you’d be after.

 

He wasn’t talking.

 

“I KNOW RIGHT!?” Matssun elbows Iwaizumi out of the trance.

 

“Can’t you see it? Kageyama with blue eyes, the water imagery for the album cover, you could even do a black and white music video all muted -oh god it’s going to be _amazing,_ genius i tell you. He sings it real nice too- but I can’t swipe _that_ recording you know what I mean _”_ Matssun waves his hands around with all his completely valid and interesting conversation points. Except that.

 

“Who. was that ? ” Iwaizumi growls at the phone. Like it gave him a personal slight.

 

“oikawa.” mattsun pipes.

 

“No no no no not the producer. I meant the singer. Not that the production was bad, it’s damn immaculate. Even the voicing arrangement is so subtle I kinda want to punch him in the face but that voice-” Iwaizumi said the word ‘voice’ like lungs craving air.

 

“Oikawa” Matssun reiterates.

 

Iwaizumi blinks at him.

 

“Sorry?”

 

“Oikawa Tooru sang/wrote and produced _Oceans_ and it’s taking forever to record.” Mattsun taps at the phone. “I think he’s having trouble letting go, knowing it’s such a hit. Kageyama just destroys it everytime, _it’s amazing_ ”

 

Iwaizumi is still raw from the song and the identity of the voice. He can sort of imagine Kageyama fitting snugly into the vocals, the logical part of his brain pointing out all the parts that were written for Kageyama’s larger range; and where Oikawa’s voice just melted raspy and raw like the song needed. Iwaizumi has chills just remembering it.  

 

“fuck you, Oikawa should sing this. Were we even listening to the same damn thing”.

 

His brain to mouth filter is off and he just deadpanned that and  Mattsun is holding in his snarky laugh.

 

“Hah! You’re in love with the song!! But yeah Oikawa should sing more, never had singing credits around here? Has he ?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Singing credits. hello?.”

 

Right, Iwaizumi finds himself recalling all the times he sat in a booth with Oikawa at the helm. Any time he made the singer repeat back a verse and he sang the key into the mic before cueing a singer to start. Or anytime he articulated a vibe, with very specific beat boxing and a cooing a certain musical phrase. He sings chords a lot, Iwaizumi should have recognized that voice, like clear sweet water. but didn’t. What the hell. It’s exactly like that mystery dream voice, but at the same time. That wretchedly, obsessive - oikawa.

 

It’s pissing him off how stupid the whole situation was to a point that he forgot to ask Mattsun for a copy of _Oceans_ which pissed him off more later. A runner was signalling him to return to the rec room.

 

Every. Single time.

 

“Yeah, no singing credits.”

 

“Eh. congratulations on the new crush”  Mattsun slaps him squarely at the back.

 

Iwaizumi socks him in the gut to reply, and chases down the assistant.

 

\---

\--

  


_..you cut  me open.._

_.. you cut me open -oh so deeep  .._

 

_...you left me open.._

_...you left me oh so weak._

 

_.. youve got me open.. ._

 

_You’ve got me._

_oceans Deep._

  


_((hoooooh))_

 

Iwaizumi finds himself humming along like a slow theme into his morning.

 

Great, he remembers lyrics now, from his dreams.

Like some cruel form of deja vu.

 

He rubs his temples.

Except non-dream Oikawa can’t sing like that.

He sings at work, but nothing like that. It’s vapid, performed. Accurate strategic singing that has Iwaizumi internally cringing, not when Oikawa’s real voice could croon in the way it haunts his dreams.

 

Or won’t.

  


Iwaizumi can’t decide which situation is more frustrating.

Stupid dreams.

Stupid dream voice.

Stupid dream. Boy.

  


This has to be a record worst case of last song syndrome.

 

\----------------

  
  


Needless to say it’s been weird at work.

 

\-----

 

Yahaba swings into the rec room with a pack of takeout in one hand.

It’s around 3am in the morning and there’s a quiet mix of judgement and support on his face as he places a hot drink precisely beside Oikawa’s restless hand. Oikawa's wrapped up in a day's old jacket and his work again and Oikawa just talks out loud as a form of acknowledgement, brown eyes still glued on the moving ticker in his laptop.

“WHO’S TRAck 4 again ? I mean who was on back-up. Musician right , i can’t.”

Oikawa proceeds to rake at his hair out of frustration and drag a palm over his face. He’s talking over the music again, so he's unnecessarily loud in the soundproofed aggressively tan room. He’s also, picking up the conversation as if Yahaba didn’t leave for a desperate coffee run, and ofcourse Yahaba is just rolling with it.

 

“Bassist.” Yahaba offers.

“Noo” Oikawa clicks at his tongue.

Yahaba mulls over the question and sips at his own latte-. Oikawa also grabs at his and gulps about half in one go.

 

“-Ah!- hot--”

Yahaba’s eyes grow into saucers.

“What is _wrong_ with you??!”

“You mean today especially or..?” Oikawa has this stupid smile. They share a moment. Yahba cuts it short.

“What wrong with the track.”

Yahaba feels a rude mother of an assistant, apprentice-aunt-something.

 

Oikawa slaps away his own headset as reply. He switches the song to the overhead speakers, to let Yahaba hear it for himself.

 

\----

 

An upbeat tune slides in, a bright synthpop. A quaint male voice hovers over the chords. It was a small EP of an indie band..

 

_...I was gone, but not my love.._

_...we were clearly meant for more_

_Than a life lost in the war..._

 

 

The two naturally bob their head with the rhythm. Oikawa smiles at the neatness of his own work. The whole energy lifted as you went into the song with a sparse digitized drum. Yahaba was already familiar with this song, Oikawa jumps the tracker to the lead up to the last chorus 

 

_..talk, be happy...._

_...free myself, get dizzy on caffeine.._

_...find a friend, who can make you laugh.._

_...hmmm, maybe your just a little but dappy.._

 

 

 

_Fl----------y._

 

_Feel your mother at your side_

_\---They (don’t know your angel side)_

_You know you’ve got my eyes_

_I’ll make you-._

_Fl----- -- -y_

 

 

Aggressive pause.

 

 _“_ It’s ‘ _feel, your mother. at your side’_ not _‘they don’t know your angel side’_ ” . How could you miss that, many words ??!” Oikawa breaks the spell, all exasperated tone and inexhaustible pout. He glares holes into Yahaba like demanding an answer.

 

“You mean how could you. not notice a second voice freewheeling, when you were recording.”

Yahaba deadpans.

 

Oikawa gives him the middle finger.

“It sounds phenomenal.” in the Yahaba, oh-By-the-way in-case-you-missed-it patent voice.

 

It’s like a vocal slant rhyme. A second voice echoing un-exactly a main lyric but lending additional meaning if you listened hard enough and caught the easter egg. It honestly felt like finding a prize.

 

“Crafty little shit.” ofcourse Oikawa hated it.

 

_Your angel side._

 

Crafty little, Oikawa chugs at his coffee again.

 

“You just hate that you didn’t think of it first” Yahaba teases. Where Yahaba can wager that Oikawa edited around that one track so much, that he’s smoothed out the rest of the tiny four track EP, but couldn’t face the decision on an otherwise weirdly good, endearing second voice from track number four. He's obsessing over the equalizers while his brain was still training on the voice.

 

“Wh-who was on drums?” Oikawa replies. A ‘fuck’ can be read in subtext.

 

“Noya?” Yahaba ventures.

 

They both do a non-verbal “no”. Definitely not his voice. This was deeper, with a rich luscious tone. Nicely lost in the music, melting with the vibe of the slapped together band seamlessly.

 

Yahaba snaps his fingers, excitedly.

 

“Oh -oh, I know- Iwaizumi Hajime! Guitar guy, prickly hair, mean set of eyes, tan skin. Has really nice arms..” he flashes Oikawa a smile expecting triumph but-

 

“Nice arms?” Oikawa smirks. The word sexy would have saved him a lot words.

 

“Solid bottom range as a second voice, is a really skilled lead guitar, has been working with us for about half a year, reliable kind of guy..”

 

“ARms” Oikawa repeats as if announcing a pertinent fact.  

 

Yahaba dumps Oikawa’s coffee in the trash can in frustration and drags him out of the rec room with finality.

  
  


\-----

 

“Go home, _boss_.”  

 

Oikawa flashes him a weak smile in the parking lot. He has his work bag on him but is busy thumbing his smartphone looking up _iwaizumi_ in his files and on the internet. His mind clicks together all the work they’ve done peripherally and the face to go with the name. Right, energy drink guy.

 

Sometimes Oikawa really did love his job in the way that musicians had a fundamental hotness he didn’t mind surrounding himself in. He’s just been busy, with music and everything. But that weird echo thing really caught his eye and he finds himself inwardly smiling cause really One. interesting. Two.   _jackpot_. soundcloud account. He’s already popping in earbuds when Yahaba offers to drive him home and scolds him into a seat belt. Yahaba slams the door when he takes the driver's seat.

 

“You’re not sleeping with that amount of coffee in your system ya-chan ,.. _auntie pretty_ ”

 

It’s now Yahaba’s turn to flash Oikawa the middle finger. _Who’s fault is that?_ _Who drinks coffee at this hour?? Why did I even let you in my car?_ All questions that can be read from Yahaba's painted frustration which Oikawa just comicly copies and yahaba finds himself laughing at. They've done this way too often. 

 

“fine - where?” he relents.  


“A bar, with an open mic” oikawa replies with a childish tinkle, like a kid getting candy.

 

“Won’t they kick us out at this hour?” Yahaba says, completely sensible reasonable Yahaba who deserves someone like managerial head Watari but gets Oikawa whipping out in full kareoke mode drowning out the argument.

 

_..They don’t know your ANGEL SIDE._

 

_..You know you’ve got my eyes_

 

He riles up Yahaba until the other just breaks and belts out the next bars in unison. Yahaba can hold a tune, he even has a slightly higher range than his boss, but Oikawa’s got the full attitude going, and Yahaba finds himself at his wits end again keeping up with his boss. But.

  


_..I’ll make you-_

 

_FL------Y!_

 

The music felt instantly liberating.

 

_.....You’ll be happy all the time_

 

_..I know you can make it right.._

 

_hey!_

_hey!_

 

_hey!_

\------

 

The door crashes open.

 

Oikawa feels like he’s jumped by a burglar. He inelegantly leaps out of his dazed sleep, slaps the studio’s control panel feeling his head whiplash at the intruder. His body is heavy as lead,damn. Vitriol boiling in his throat to just rip out at the rude bastard who has the nerve to not knock this early in the morning.

 

Except he has a hangover, and his voice is used up and hoarse. And his eyes are dry and clothes disgusting, and his wristwatch is ticking to two am. No , pm. fuck. He has a terrible crick in his neck from the odd sleeping position, and he only vaguely recalls the song blinking in his laptop. Ah another alcoholic remix.

 

He must be dreaming.

Cause that’s Iwaizumi right?

 

“Ah you.”  his voice decides to spit out after managing to reboot.

 

Iwaizumi in the flesh, in this boyish denim with a guitar case slung on his back.

 

“Me?”

 

Oikawa blinks fast, lowkey staring. As if it would make his brain wake up faster. He needs a cold glass of water. Also Oikawa, this seems to be reality now, so please do salvage the situation--

 

“I -i requested a guitarist.” Oikawa clears his throat.

 

“But I have a 2pm here. Uh, with Sawamura. Is he late ?”

 

His voice is more full in person. Oikawa can't help but guess at the mic Iwaizumi used for his personal recordings, until his brain runs over the scenarios quickly. Sawamura is too responsible to be late but is probably nice enough to let him sleep, would go to find watari or yahaba to make some nice coffee-

 

“Wait. Did you not go home from yesterday?” mr. tall glass of water interrupts. He seems mildly pissed about this. Which Oikawa remembers is a default for this guy, which he finds mildly stimulating, for someone to be that straightforward with his own opinion. Like a rude sexy honesty.

 

Oikawa vaguely gestures at the laptop, with a generic enough “work.” Iwaizumi frown deepens, maybe unsatisfied with the clipped answer but doesn’t pester further.

 

“Blue hit a million copies yesterday, congratulations. It’s definitely AJ rec+’s best record yet” he segways.

 

Oikawa gives a non-committal “mmhm.” until

 

“I really liked how oceans was written, and made. I felt like it was talking to me”

 

Which made Oikawa straighten up and do a 360 turn in his head. There’s the cold splash of water, instantly sobering. Fuckign sincerity, he knew it. Oikawa knows how to read people and he got this Iwaizumi right, he’s abrasively straight with people that it’s uncomfortable. Regardless if he’s got his brows furrowed, he means the compliment. Oikawa feels his toothy smile come up on instinct, automatic walls.

 

“Thanks”

 

“What could you _possibly_ be working on?” like demanding an explanation.

 

Oikawa squints at his laptop with his periphery. uhm.

 

“Ahh.” Oikawa taps at the desk.

 

“Oceans. acoustic version.”

 

Iwaizumi stalks nearer to the booth.

 

“I think i really hated all the minus 1 versions they had in the internet. They never translated the synths right. And slowing down the rhythm even more is just unoriginal , overkill… They want new arrangements for the deluxe version too ..” Oikawa is absentmindedly twisting his fingers. ".. lyric video. .." When he notices this, he tidies up some stray milkbread wrappers while still talking. He’s boring over the problem again with his full body, now fully remembered in the light of day.

 

“And you requested a guitarist.” Iwaizumi ventures.

 

“yeah.”

 

“Should be manageable.” he follows immediately, nonchalantly.

 

Oikawa turns immediately sour, bitter.

“Oh really?.” as if he didn't just spend a deranged night boring over this. Like his perfectionism wasn’t notorious. As if this wasn’t a crucial addendum on AJ+ latest most successful album yet, with his own star-licked protege pulling out techniques he’s taught him before. Techniques before his own vocal cords gave in and punctured a hole into his life and his music. His tobio-chan’s debut album, is widely successful . His hands are itchy, burning from the anxiety. and you have the nerve- 

 

“Reeeeeeally??” he spits out, not meaning it to be a dare. He can look intimidating if he wants to, but Iwaizumi wasn't having it.

 

“I’m kind of-" like he wanted to bite back, "obsessed with this song” Iwaizumi confesses, like he's mad at the fact. Neither backs down from the not-argument as if both would be pissed regardless whatever you say, until it slowly dawns on Oikawa what he actually said, and it's just even more confusing which makes him more pissed.

 

 Yahaba knocks and pokes through the door dissipating what obvious tension was boiling up.

 

His eyes grow into saucers though, and he kind of jumps up into his heels realising Oikawa was with Iwaizumi. His pathetic aunty smile was growing into his face, this cheeky caught in the act leer- and Oikawa had to stop it.

 

“Ya-chan!!” Oikawa announces in his annoying, perky good morning in the pm voice. He walks up to Yahaba as if having to hold him. He hauls his laptop with him too.

 

“Thankyou so much for the coffee, you’re a real _life-saver_.” Oikawa kind of needs to implode.

 

He eyes Sawamura behind Yahaba. The other producer is already mouthing apologies to the guitarist, hand on his nape.

 

“Hey-“ Iwaizumi snatches at the wrist of Oikawa’s pale grey jacket.

 

“Yeah?” Oikawa squashes the panic in his stomach, and gives his best poker face.

 

“I mean it” Iwaizumi intones.

 

Oikawa hates that he knows, Ofcouse you do. He levels his gaze, gnawing his lip. They really have to go.

 

“Okay fine! Fine, I’ll request for you.” as if the whole developing crush, and you’re uncomfortably sexy sincere is not a thing. He sounds so whiny, Oikawa hates how his voice sounds now. He just needs to get away. For this whole thing to be over.

 

“Good” the other man nods and ducks back into the studio.

 

Oikawa feels his chest collapse as the door closes. Yahaba also visibly exhales beside him.

 

“I think I need to sleep for ten decades.”

 

Yahaba drinks at Oikawa’s coffee.

 

“That's the best thing I've heard from you in ages boss.”


	2. Chapter 2

—

 

_five years before_

 

—

 

 

Kageyama was a transfer student. He wasn’t supposed to be there, in the amphitheater, room full of overly stressed theater staff, halfway through the four month production schedule and be introduced as part of the fucking main cast. Ofcourse it set-back the training schedule, how’s he going to get the cues?. What’s even more annoying is he kept having a dumb-eyed look at Oikawa, almost emitting overly detailed questions about the role the role they’re sharing. Ah, precious understudy.

 

“He still has to audition right?” Oikawa speaks up and looks over to the director , which immediately quiets the buzzing crowd. Kageyama was specifically transferred to sub Oikawa, when performances are scheduled back to back. It’s the first time the young conservatory was chosen to participate in a national arts festival, and it wants talents, it’s desperate.

 

‘for formality’, Oikawa mouths and collects the rest of the main crew behind a desk. Kageyama clears his throat and sings the headline song of the prod.

 

Oikawa immediately hates himself.

Immediately hates that he adores, and has music running deep to the marrow of his bones, in the seat of his soul - that he knows. The truth that is Kageyama can sing, that he has miles of potential and regardless of his youth he should play lead. That’s exactly why he was transferred to train to be lead, under the current lead, that is which is Oikawa Tooru.

 

Who’s royally fucked. 

 

The current cast applauds and is excited about the new talent. Oikawa feels his smile not reach his eyes.

 

 

—

-

 

Yahaba was the artistic director’s assistant.

 

But he kept bumping into Oikawa in the coffee machine, who was technically also a student but was not only the lead, but one of the head composers, and he’s tall and just got off stage, and just has a whole reputation that’s a whole different animal altogether.. Oikawa makes a face at the coffee.

 

“tastes like piss” 

 

So true.

 

“my piss would be hotter than this” Yahaba mumbles to himself.

 

Oikawa laughs to the side. Yahaba is immediately flushed, embarrassed about the comment and runs away. He saves face by bringing Oikawa “decent coffee”the next day from a nearby cafe and they’re automatically, thankfully friends. 

 

Oikawa confesses about dreaming up lyrics in his sleep, his embarrassing level of obsession. Yahaba admires more than the performance, Oikawa’s unwavering commitment.

 

Yahaba is thankfully a nightowl, and they catch up on their piling schoolwork together backstage. They sing back and forth, Oikawa unendingly upstaging him but in good humor. And in the last few weeks to curtain, Yahaba would find Oikawa rehearsing in his mind, eyes closed with his headset, throat dangerously sore, eye bags dark.

 

“if I could just hit that note- on the last turn of phrase-

 

“you’re gonna break your voice.”

 

Oikawa’s performance has already been recently suffering. The director has yelled at him in the final technical dress rehearsal ‘to get some fucking rest’ and there’s no consolation of Kageyama personally telling him “to not worry, I am fully capable of performing the role. I watched you act, I studied.’

 

_You’re doing too much- you need to catch a break._

_The sound is coming so together - we need you in sound direction —_

 

_Kageyama can really sing, can’t he?_

_all the festival guests are really intense this year—_

 

 

 

_How do you manage to do all this?_

 

 

—-

 

 

The Conservatory of Miyagi won it’s first national festival award as “best score” in the musical category under the Musical Direction of Oikawa Tooru.

 

He was crying on stage, shaking in an overly large suit as the sole rep of the cast to the National Arts Body for the recognition. He couldn’t talk on stage, his voice was beyond hoarse. He will talk after a month of vocal therapy. He kept bowing in thanks. Kageyama killed his score. This was his best work. The best thing that happened to him, happened when he swore he doesn’t deserve to sing again.

 

Music deserves only the best. 

 

 

 

 

 

——-

 

present day

____

 

 

 

They were roughly in the same position as yesterday, Oikawa helming the recording station, and Iwaizumi beside him in a stool with a guitar. Oikawa did not overthink his outfit today, no , he just occasionally cleans up well in a button up and Iwaizumi really looks nice in a plain white t-shirt and it’s just the two of them this would have been perfect except-

except that obstinate oikawa had to damn well talk.

 

 

“what. no, i won’t sing”

 

“i thought you could come in at the fourth bar—“ iwaizumi ventures pointing at the song sheet.

“it’s a minus one” oikawa says like talking to a kindergartener.

“but, we’re rearranging” iwaizumi says stating the obvious

“i know my own song” oikawa says the even MORE obvious.

“ why can’t you just-

 

They’re already bickering, and both of them are really stubborn. One thing was clearly dawn unto iwaizumi in that hot moment: Oikawa wouldn't sing. He consciously, to an obstinate, infuriating degree does not want to _sing_. Like some stupid asshole that he’s lowkey notorious for.

 

“Just let me hear it!” Oikawa pouts.

iwaizumi can’t believe his own life.

 

Iwaizumi repositions his guitar with an internal FINE, throwning my hands up internally in the process. He plucks out the first chords.His fingers flutter over the strings. 

 

Where the original song begins stripped, this begins with full chords cascading over one another in a hypnotizing drone.

 

He hums a short phrase and let’s the sound melt away.

 

Oh there’s the end of the fourth bar- where you should have start singing Oikawa.

 

 

_((…I left my heart wide open baby so I could let you swim…))_

 

 

The guitar continues and Iwaizumi hums a second voice to lift the lyrics. It’s happier, a tone lower too, which is easier to sing. Oikawa finds himself really pleased like he can’t stop a smile crawling into his face,as if oceans was spring water and you’ve drank it and quenched thirst for the first time in your life. Music felt that relieving to Oikawa , and this felt as relaxing to him, like he was hearing his own song for the first time.

 

 

_..what sets the waves in motion baby, and now it’s sinking in…_

 

 

...Ba-by yoo—oou…

 

 

_…you did me in. ._

 

 

 

and now we’re falling back again..

 

 

 

Iwaizumi starts singing in earnest this time, occasionally knocking on the wood to make up for the lack of synths. Oikawa barely breathes lest he disturb the small performance, it’s like his whole body is listening, absorbed at the moment in hand. Best moment of his year but god, but Iwaizumi didn’t need to know it. Oikawa could at least have this, have music and he would be alright. Iwaizumi finishes the song and it’s devastatingly intimate in the rec room. 

 

The song dies out in the guitar. Oikawa swallowed before he could react, he can’t look Iwaizumi in the eye and ends up asking the floor. 

 

“lower key?”

“would be easier to sing”

“thought so”

 

It’s still really awkward having a really attractive guy croon you a love song— but that’s not what’s messing with Oikawa - it “it sounds like a—

 

They say it together:

“a duet.”

 

They catch each others eyes for a hot second and turn away.

 

“yup” 

“u huh”

 

Iwaizumi talks over the song.

“I was going for a, uuhh,. Like one of those reply-song versions?”

 

mm. theatrical.

 

“uhh, I made some of the i’s to we’s..”

“I noticed”

 

“and I thought, the last verse could..have the second voice takeover the song entirely, maybe have different lyrics from the original”

Oikawa raises an eyebrow to this.

 

“the story from their perspective.” Oikawa continues.

Iwaizumi nods. He continues explaining,

“and that’s the part we could strip down like the original, the guitar disappears”

“they’re almost talking.”

“yeah”

“shit.”

“what”

 

Oikawa grits his teeth. where-have-you-been-all-my-life and you-can’t-keep-doing-this-to-my-heart. He grabs a stray piece of paper and writes lines as fast as he could write them. The energy is as physical as being hit by a bus. There’s this guy, the guy you’ve obsessed over for days for a stray line, their soundcloud and boyishly good look and he just handed you the musical equivalent of the holy grail.

 

 

You’ve got me oceans

(we’ve been lost at sea—-

 

baaby (baaaby)

 

You’ve got us drowning

(we could barely breath

 

 

You’ve left us drowning

(cause i was —weak—-

 

(I’ve got us oceans—

(I’ve got us oceans deep

 

———-

 

 

 

“It could work.” Oikawa’s eyes feel huge on his face. He’s seriously considering, bites at his lip.

 

”i needs a sample though” he twists his fingers.

 

“let me just get a singer” he reaches for his phone.

 

The voice yanks hi right out of his trance, peircing cold and harsh.

“ _what the hell - oikawa_.”

 

Iwaizumi levels a glare at him, as if that was just the most ridiculous shit he’s ever heard.

“It’s just. a damn sample.” It felt like he was hammering nails to a board.

 

“it would work better with a female lead, duets would sell better that way-“ Oikawa is talking over himself. His typing only mometarily freezes as Iwaizumi shoots him an even meaner look.

“not that I don’t swing that way- I’m actually gay but” Oikawa sqeeks and internally screams at himself to just shut the Hell up.

 

Iwaizumi isn’t fazed for a second, his face unchanged. 

 

“Just sing with me. Once.” Iwaizumi commands.

 

Oikawa immediately can’t find his voice, he hates it. The trauma was as much physical as mental. He sounds broken, he could feel the gap in his throat and it’s like he’s asthmatic with how short his breath is compared to how it used to be. Making samples with people he trusts is doable, they know he’s not a singer and respect that. All his own samples, are comped, stitched together to leave out all his worst parts. You can’t do that live and it’s just much easier oikawa.

 

If you don’t sing.

 

——Iwaizumi on the other hand just won’t let it die. With a gaze that’s almost pinning him in place. Don’t you even dare get someone right now, someone else.

When just about a second ago - we were perfect.

 

 

Oikawa sighs heavily. gaddamit, it’s such a good arrangement,

 

“fine.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

\--------

_days later_

\-------- 

 

“So how the-“

“I don’t want to talk about it” Oikawa intones with finality.

 

Yahaba feigns dying in his chair shooting a dagger like glare at Oikawa, who just recrosses his arms.

 

“It could work too..” Sugawara Koushi, the actual manager of Kageyama is biting at his thumb, slowly swaying around his swivel chair. A beauty mark peeks out under his left eye when he fixes his hair but otherwise slams the desk when he makes the decision.

 

“yeah, I’ll do whatever it takes to get Kiyoko to sing this” Sugawara announces with a smile.

 

Yahaba and Oikawa immediately mirror with their own grins.

 

“but we’re keeping Iwaizumi, I can’t guarantee we’ll get this level of chemistry" sugawara narrows his eyes. " -but Iwaizumi’s singing is good contrast with the rest of Blue as an album. I’m trusting you on this Oikawa,” Suga points at the producer. “You know the version of the two of you could fit the album seamlessly.” 

 

“But I’m not a big name Suga-chan. Kiyoko is, Kageyama would benefit from the extra exposure." Oikawa has his most amiable face on, big brown eyes and pretty smile. "and you know a guy who knows a guy, and you’ll get her." Oikawa deflects. "I know you will.” 

 

“Yeah and your sample sounds way too personal” Suga mumbles.

 

“Suga-chan!” Oikawa squeeks.

 

“like sex in public.”

 

Oikawa has eyes as big a beamlights at Sugawara.

 

“dirty little secret” the silver haired manager chuckles to himself.

 

“OKkay, now i really want to hear it boss” Yahaba speaks up with an arm raised. Oikawa rolls his eyes at Sugawara, then in a serious, I-could-have-been-a-lawyer tone.

 

“artist rights refreshing-kun, the sample doesn’t get out.” 

 

They lock eyes for a moment. Sugawara gives in.

 

“I’ll get Kiyoko to sing it.”

 

And this time, Oikawa looks genuinely sincere, smiling, nods his head.

 

“thank you.”

 

 

——-----

_ recording _

\--------

 

Oikawa uses his left foot to drag out a box of kirin ichiban beer tucked under the control panel. The case is bright red which means premium, but it’s not refrigerated.

 

“which means it taste like piss.” Oikawa mutters to himself.

 

“what the living hell” Iwaizumi grits his teeth.

 

Oikawa with his most serious face on, takes out a bottle and flashes it in front of Iwaizumi. 

 

“I’m a recovering alcoholic. A tortured artist” 

 

“bullshit” Iwaizumi is both annoyed and amused.

 

“my artistry is enhanced when I’m drunk or high” Oikawa tries again.

 

“oh hi Amy Winehouse” Iwaizumi says in the most disbelieving voice.

 

Oikawa fishes out a bottle opener from the left most drawer of the control desk and pops open the bottle. Oikawa overly grips at the cap to feel it’s pointy ends, dig into his palms. It’s a satisfying pain.. he feels his lips press together.

 

“ I wrote oceans when I was black out drunk, but from all the songs I wrote .even before Blue-“ he sighs, he doesn’t mean to.

 

“it affects me ”

 

His face twists like he doesn't get it either, the first honest thing he said. 

(it came to me in a dream.)

 

“ can’t believe I released that shit.” Oikawa curses. Takes a long drag at his beer. Usually food and drink wouldn’t be around such expensive audio equipment, but Oikawa is a bit of a slob. And just tucks his drink between his legs and opens another one to offer to Iwaizumi and stares at it like it’s a breathing necessity. 

 

“hell am I touching it sober, and Hell, am I gonna be the only one drinking” he points it Iwaizumi like a grave declaration, like a direct order. Iwaizumi's hand engulfs his in one hot moment , and grabs the bottle and chugs the whole thing at one go. It stings, in sort of the way it jumps and drowns all the butterflies that have been convulsing the whole time since he’d been three feet from Oikawa. The real Oikawa. It makes insects crawl up and down his limbs, and Iwaizumi can’t do anything but pack his guitar, and march in the rec room to collect the nice microphone and sling his bag on.

 

“where are you going?” Oikawa is staring like watching an alien specimen.

 

“we’re drinking on the roof, kirin seriously stains carpets.” Iwaizumi continues packing, he loops wires neatly and efficiently and zips it in his backpack. He replaces his empty bottle in the red crate and hauls it up in one arm ready to go. 

 

Oikawa feels the corners of his eyes well up, why the hell did he have to be so attractive, why me , why today?. He’s running out off of excuses. He feels like he’s being thrown off a cliff and it’s all a wild mix of fear, and adrenaline and this buff, hot angel wanting him to fly. Oikawa begs his knees to not fail him.

 

The obsessive part of him already packed his things on autopilot. Assessed the best set up to make the ambient roof noise passable, aesthetic even, to record a sample maybe with lapels?. No production tricks, simple acoustic cover with an addicting arrangement, banking on how fun this would be for normal people to jam with and sing along too. This would nice call and response for concert set-ups. fuck fuck fuck fuck. He can’t _not_ sing this.

 

Oikawa already feels his throat choke up, and forces the rest of his beer down, and following Iwaizumi out.The guitarist had the sense to steal ice from the pantry and deftly press at the elevator button. Nothing but up.

————————

 

Iwaizumi has been drunk before, but he’s never been in love. So he doesn’t really know how to explain his own feelings to himself, the sense of hot rage and disappointment when Watari announces that really famous soul singer- Kiyoko Shimizu will be singing with him for the bonus track on the deluxe version of Blue, to be released in less than a week. He wants to punch a wall, at the same time that he’s getting a fat bonus and recognition at the one music group he could stick to for more than a few months- he wants to punch, a fucking, damn concrete wall.

 

And feel his knuckles bleed through, wouldn’t that be nice.

 

But he’s professional and reliable, and when he goes into the recording booth with Oikawa manning the production helm, he can’t even bring himself to stare. Too many people, Kiyoko in the flesh, Yahaba with his own laptop, Watari, Sugawara even Sawamura crowding the aggressively tan production room. He needs all his energy to even manage to do his job. They’re doing the official multi-track recording. He needs to play the guitar section isolated in the recording room, so it’s easier to edit and comp around when Oikawa makes the final mix.

 

Nothing like the drunk jam session they had at the rooftop. Nothing like singing music to the stars. Nothing like having the most raw parts of a person coo love songs into the night. Nothing like that. It feels cruel.

 

Except that’s the scratch record. It streams into his headset, clamped over Iwaizumi’s ears for him as reference, to play over follow in the recording booth. Yahaba cuts over it, talks over the song, the sweet polite boy.

 

“sound check?”

 

Iwaizumi snaps out of it, nods. Yup he heard the scratch record just fine, can’t forget it. He strums at his maple guitar in reply, beautiful grain, and more importantly a warm and full sound. An extension of himself really. Yahaba replies with a huge thumbs up. He’s heard it too. Oikawa, flanking him has the most intense look at his laptop screen, white boxes floating in his glasses, not budging an inch to even cue Iwaizumi. All other eyes are on him.

 

He has absolutely zero energy to worry about Oikawa at a very crucial recording session of his life, he’s supposed to be livid at this guy for making him feel alive then leaving him dead in the air. But here he is. He’s worrying about him. 

 

“ready? I’ll count you down from three Iwaizumi-san.” Yahaba pipes in. Iwaizumi doesn’t have the energy or the time. Oikawa is still deathly still. Iwaizumi notices the producer’s lips it’s pressed tight.“three-“ Iwaizumi breathes out the heaviest sighs of his life.

 

“ —-two”

 

If anything he’s really thankful for that night. He adores this song.

 

“—-one”

 

Something unlocks in him. And he begins to play.

 

———————————-

 

 

Yahaba has a face with alarm signals on it, eyes signalling at entrance of the cafe they were having their lunch break in. Oikawa thinks it funny and wants to take a picture but actually takes the warning seriously and doesn’t look behind him.

 

 

“Kuroo ?” , voice only over a whisper.

 

Yahaba shakes his head ever so slightly. no. keeps glancing at the door.

 

“Ushijima?” Oikawa thinks of a couple of curses.

 

no.

 

Well then Good. but Oikawa still didn’t get it.

 

“You better be not teasing me about Iwaizumi cause you know nothing-” 

 

A tall figure slides by the side of their table, in a black hoodie and piercing blue eyes.

 

Oikawa gives his gut reaction , this 10,000 dollar, mega-watt smile.

 

 

“Tobio-chan! long time no see, what brings you here?~”

Kageyama shifts from foot to foot. Can’t get a word out.

 

“Saw your performance during that morning TV show, last saturday. One of his best right? Ya-chan? Really excited for you, we’re making concert arrangements.”

 

Yahaba nods, but mostly keeps to himself.

 

“th- the acoustic, version.” Kageyama swallows. “how did you sing that.”

 

Oikawa feels his mask thicken.

 

“tsk, tsk looks like I haven’t shown you all my tricks” he tilts his head feigning all cute, arm over the backrest of an adjacent chair.

 

Kageyama straightens up even further. Admiration and respect is clear on his face. Oikawa was his first vocal coach, producer of his best songs. He doesn’t know how to apologize and he’s harassed Yahaba countless of desperate times what the hell is wrong with his boss’s vocal chords, and this ultimatum of never performing. It’s thick in the air, the stress, the weight of unspoken words but the only thing that comes out is.

 

 

 

“I like it better than Kiyoko’s.” 

 

Kageyama frowns.

 

“Don’t flatter me, Tobio-chan”, only cause Yahaba has known him for so long that he detects a slight damper in Oikawa’s eyes. It says _I have shit lung capacity and she’s literally a goddess._

 

“Aren’t you busy? cause I’m busy and I’m not even you”. he has this too perfect laugh, that makes Kageyama’s toes curl. Oikawa’s being impossible. 

 

Yahaba remembers a time when Kageyama didn’t think twice about overtaking Oikawa on a lead role and now he’s backtracking with a conscience, and Oikawa’s nerves are fraying with the very idea. Tobio can’t be nice, cause then Oikawa’s a poor victim and he can’t handle it with his fragile pride. Yahaba is internally screaming, just reliving the trauma Oikawa went through after wrecking his own voice, no his boss can’t be treated like a victim. Parading his dead dream right into his face, with a compliment.

_“it’s better than kiyoko’s”_

But he’s a damn good composer.

 

“oikawa-sempai.”

“yes, what.”

 

He’s always been a damn god good composer.

 

“sing with me.” Kageyama is the one standing but is the one who seems small.

 

 

Oikawa physically winces at the line. says “no”with a fuck implied. 

 

“Not a singer” Oikawa then smoothly gestures at the bathroom, saying excuse me I have to be gone real quick. but it’s nice to see you order anything lalala, don’t miss me when I’m gone..Oikawa exits.

 

Kageyama looks like a kicked puppy. Yahaba adjusts in his seat.

 

“I don’t get it either” Yahaba confesses into the dead air.

 

He doesn’t hate Kageyama it’s just so fucking complicated. It’s like Oikawa didn’t just injure his voice but also his ears, he doesn’t hear himself, and how inane and stupid his excuses are. Kageyama has a couple of false starts at small talk but just ends back to 

 

“—how?”

 

“Iwaizumi”. Yahaba promises to himself. 

 

 

“I’m getting to the bottom of this”. 

 

———————————————-

 

 

 

Iwaizumi is 500 messages deep into his message board with Oikawa. And he finds himself smiling into his own elbow while repositioning himself in his bed.

 

what the fuck is happening.

 

also. 

 

which part of that was a dream which part of that actually happened ?

 

 

 

 

—-

 

_ an example _

 

—-

 

 

Oikawa is a mess of limbs on the floor, back against the stair well wall, half crying and gripping into his smartphone. He’s slapping Iwaizumi away, who’s also crouched on the floor.

 

“noo!! iwa-chan that’s not—“ 

 

“gaddamn, piece of shit—“ Iwaizumi wrestles the phone from Oikawa” don’t you dare,”

“fuck that! haH!”

“ugh

 

“yes!!” Oikawa laughs into a ball of triumph. And Iwaizumi just groans in defeat. He picks up what ice is left from the cooler and drops it in Oikawa’s shirt. -making the other squirm then scream like a baby.

 

“you’re the WOrst!” Oikawa’s voice cracks, betrayed. 

Iwaizumi is doubly pissed exasperated but can’t help himself. “WHY THE HELL , DID YOU DELETE IT AGAIN”

 

Oikawa mopes into his shirt. “gross, iwa-chan” Oikawa is slightly drenched and fixes his lapel mic. It traces a line on his body. Iwaizumi feels his eyes trace it, before his eyes roll to the back of his head. He grumbles beneath his breath. 

 

“why the fuck did you delete the _one_ thing you liked, when we’ve been recording for ten straight hours…”

 

Oikawa is both miserable and ecstatic, now lying down on the floor, reduced to coughing into his collar.

 

“augh, ugh, hah. i don’t want this to end” Oikawa barely whispers, his eyes glossy, then closed. 

 

They’re almost sober, drunk on nothing but fumes and mood. And Oikawa’s voice is almost out. Like the color of the night now giving way to light. 

 

“hey shittykawa.” 

 

Iwaizumi nudges Oikawa with his knee. “it’s literally morning.” the sun crawls out of the horizon leaving the two quiet as their whole sky is bathed into color. 

 

Oikawa feels the best kind of tired. The word “woah.” all over. He wants nothing more, than this moment. And in the face of such beauty doesn’t it make you want to sing? His body curls ever so slightly into Iwaizumi, who’s still sitting on the floor. Thanks for sending me this one. He carefully scratches at the other’s jeans. 

 

“one last” Oikawa says. With the hope and the wonder in his chest, he resets his lapel and checks connections. “one last”, cause this time his own body is shivering with happiness. That he could spin from thin air, watery accusations into sweet spring water, or summer rain. He hears Iwaizumi reach for his guitar, the sound almost fitting into Oikawa’s body, filling the hole in his neck. Oikawa sings into his shoulder, cooing into the small button of a microphone, lightly holding Iwaizumi’s knees. Feels the other man’s rich tone buoy him across continents in less than a span of a night. 

 

They carry to the last verse, guitar gone, and speak to each other. Oikawa is almost praying, tone otherworldly sending shivers and sparks down Iwaizumi’s spine.

 

 

 

you’ve got me oceans. 

 

(we’ve been lost at sea—-

 

 

baaby (baaaby)

 

 

You’ve got us drowning

 

(we could barely breath

 

 

 

 

 

You’ve left us drowning

 

Iwaizumi, imagines the pain of admission.

 

 

 

 

(cause i was. —weak—-

 

 

Oikawa hums.

 

(I’ve got us —- —

 

(I’ve got us oceans deep

 

OIkawa bursts into haunting toning, arching over and under the guitar that returns, and pulls back and forth from the main melody. It snares you, leaves you as breathless as Oikawa’s short phrases and raw tone. It’s both tortured and beautiful. 

 

The song ends, right before Oikawa’s throat gives out. He coughs to the side away from the mic. Iwaizumi immediately sputters a hundred sorries which makes Oikawa to try to choke it down. 

 

that was the best.

 

it was on a different level.

 

That was what Iwaizumi already blatantly knew and what Oikawa was trying to explain by gesturing with his arms. Oikawa was happy, and all sung dry.

 

Iwaizumi thinks he kissed him quietly on the forehead.

 

 

That’s if.

 

 

 

 

 

 

That’s if Iwaizumi’s not fooling himself. 

 

 

——————————


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

*LOUD KNOCKING*

 

“IWAIZUMI@!!. IWAIZUMI YOU’LL BE LATE FOR WORK.”

 

Iwaizumi curses under his breath, being ripped out from his dream. He kicks off his blanket and drops with fours limbs at the floor. Yaku, is his neighbor, occasional babysitter, more like his mother, already running his mouth 4AM in the morning. it’s an aggressive whisper ,low enough to not wake children but rash enough to tell Iwaizumi he’s serious.

 

“you’re morning shift at the cafe you know that, why the hell did you take a double and a late night shift at the fitness gym when that’s literally how many hours of” he keeps talking while cooking breakfast and almost punching the expresso machine. Yaku’s brightbrown hair and small stature all the energy to wake up the excruciatingly small room.

 

Iwaizumi grumbles.

 

“I had to make up my absence with overtime..”

 

“aaand you were absent because??” Yaku glares over easy over eggs. Iwaizumi doesn’t have enough caffeine to answer this sufficiently.

 

“recording” Iwaizumi has the most clipped tone.

 

“RIGHT. You smelled like booze and kyotani stayed up late waiting for you SHAME.”

“are you my wife, Yaku? cause, honestly.”

 

“he’s your nephew! and I’m the nice baby sitter you pay well, who has the heart of GOD to raise him and two other brats so screw me”

 

“you wish” 

they both laugh and Iwaizumi looks over to Yaku after going through his cabinet. Yaku points him to the newly pressed clothes at the couch. right, starbucks uniform, not the fitness coach one..

 

“hope you had fun.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer that. Chugs Yaku’s coffee. His neighbor comes up to his shoulder with catlike but wise eyes.

 

“Kindaichi’s school just mailed the tution bills, and Kunimi started talking more i think he can do kinder now, but I’m not sure with his legal guardian’s budget so…”

 

Yaku does a side way glance at Iwaizumi.

 

Iwaizumi does a double take, almost dumb-founded.

“I can pay for it. I can pay for it yaku”

 

“really now?” Yaku is a picture of doubt. Iwaizumi takes a quick peek at the kids room. Kyoutani , kindaichi and kunimi all snug and nicely tuck in bed all tiny persons that occupy a special place in Iwaizumi's heart.

 

“last time I heard, you keep jumping around bands, where the hell are you getting money? are you dealing drugs OI!!” Iwaizumi is almost out the door. Yaku has a real talent at the shout whisper thing.

 

“you said I was late!” Iwaizumi glances at the clock. 410 am.  The branch is close enough for him to get there by 430 sharp.

 

 

But he still runs down three flights of stairs and out to the street.

He needs to give Yaku a raise.

 

  

 

 

———-

 

 

 

_ primetime late night talk show _

_ guest performance _

_ downtown. _

 

 

———

 

 

 

“IWAIZUMI.” Hanamaki, pink hair and tall frame is flailing his arms trying to get a lapel on him, barking off a stage manager and has stress written along all his worry lines. Is everyone just gonna yell his name at him today?

 

“we’re 20 minutes ’til LIVE, UKAI Kenshin you singing with KIYOKO where have you been?”

 

Iwaizumi strips from his fitness coach polo uniform and throws it right into Makki’s face. Iwaizumi is nicely ripped, and a little winded from running from the bus drop off and cutting through three lines of security. He takes of his joggers in one pull and shimmies into the dress pants with the attached radio on it. A few heads turn. His tan is even, all  up to his thick thighs.

 

“m not late-“ he argues.

 

“damn close to it.” Makki drags Iwaizumi through the tv crew of makeup and prep. They pick a dress shirt that matches ms. Kiyoko’s eyes, and brief him through cues. They basically swarm him with panic, essentially stealing him from Makki’s grip.

 

Hanamaki is the backup guitarist but is glad to announce an almost melt-downed Watari that Iwaizumi pulled through, like he always does. Makki finds main man Watari at the side of the main set, and reports eagerly:

 

“he came running from his work”

 

Watari bald cut, manager of AJ+ Rec is whitefaced.

 

“starbucks?”

“no, fitness alley.”

 

Watari wilts. 

Right, Iwaizumi has been holding down three jobs ever since he had his nephews practically dropped on him. Though it seems he’s unfazed by the problem to a point that it’s never been really brought up.

 

 

“hey Watari-san. how much cut is Iwaizumi getting out of this. It’s a hit, he has a composer credit,he’s the guitarist, half the vocals.. he could quit a job if.. ..” hanamaki trails off.

 

“she’s a big name makki.”

“he pulls through every time.”

 

Watari is deathly silent.

“he’ll get to the nice cash" watari breathes heavily on this. "when he tours.”

 

The stage manager from the TV station signals the audience to clap. A few stage light flicker open.

Iwaizumi is sitting on a stool with his guitar with a shy grin at the audience. The spotlight bathes Kiyoko beside him, before it widens to include him in it’s circle. When he starts to play, he’s literally beaming.

 

Watari, even with the long day, is infected with the smile.

“how does he have the energy?”

 

“kept looking at his phone.. I dunno” Hanamakiexcuses himself and finds an empty seat and finally cheers with the crowd.

 

 

 

——————————-

 

 

 

Tsukishima, a tall blonde with blocky glasses plays the chords with an increased echo as was instructed. Yamaha PSR E363, adds this subtle retro sound to the transition phrase that raises everyone’s hairs and makes Sugawara continuously slap Oikawa with the back of his hand.

 

“yes yes yesyes, that’s the one right?”

Oikawa has a hot mug on his neck, but his eyes are just as wide with his head nodding. Oikawa's own glasses are fogged by the hot drink.

 

_yes exactly, that’s perfect_

 

Sugawara calls it a day, and asks everyone to wrap up. Noya on drum kit, Yamaguichi on base guitar. Ennoshita for stage, video and light design, consulting for color cues and Tanaka as head stage hand. Sawamura Daichi is responsible for overall sound design, and is worrying a hole on his lip with venue acoustics . Everyone’s gearing up for tour and frankly Yahaba openly wonders who’s in charge of the actual Kageyama.

 

“Isn’t he doing promotional gigs?” the assistant ventures.

Suga catches his eye.

 

“yeah, Hinata is tailing him” Suga replies.

Oikawa embarrassingly squeeks. “ _chibi-chan?_ ” Picturing tiny orange haired kid bossing a tall brooding Kageyama around.

 

“they work well together ?” Suga tries to explain. Daichi just squeezes his temples. Suga thanks Oikawa again for the help again, but politely asks him to just leave and get some rest already.

 

Predictably Oikawa replies with a wave and a cheeky grin, that ofcourse he’s the best, anything for you refereshing-kun and makes Yahaba find him an empty recording studio because things have been exciting lately. 

 

 

—-

 

 

He flips his space grey laptop open on the booth table, then fishing for his headset when Yahaba pipes up.

 

“where’s iwaizumi?”

 

“he’s only free past 8, since taking an afternoon shift at the gym. and morning’s out since he also this coffee barista to pay for his nephews school.” Oikawa is still typing, reciting everything by memory. “which means he only has enough time to properly prep for tour as guitar, he only has a few songs but and we need to find ourselves” Oikawa is racked by coughs “ a different session artist if we…” 

 

Oikawa trails off and leaves the sound of his fingers tapping on the keys. He’s not looking at Yahaba who is smiling, like catching a stinky red handed thief.

 

“so.“

 

“am I gonna have to stalk you, or are you going to spill?”

 

Oikawa reverts to whispering for voice preservation.

 

_'now auntie.'_  his smile reaches his eyes.

 

“I can ask him myself- I have his number you know--"

 

Oikawa whips out his phone with a video. It’s a tiny child with mean eyes and blonde hair barking like a dog. It has a tiny voice, and it’s the cutest shit ever. The kid’s trying to pull down Iwaizumi’s hand like a lever but he’s literally just hanging on Iwaizumi’s forearm, and Yahaba is trying to stay on the offensive but he’s _utterly_ failing because tiny child limbs are kicking at the air. And the kid's got a set of mean eyes - and is absolutely cute.

 

“garf! arf ! ARFF!” 

 

The video has bad audio quality which makes it even _better._ Yahaba is laugh-crying and has practically stolen the phone. Oikawa is biting at his own lip.

 

“what the fuck??”

“ _i call him mad-dog chan_.” Oikawa whispers.

Yahaba loops it back, incredulous. 

Iwaizumi looks like boyfriend material but Yahaba doesn’t want to spell that out lest that stroke an overly large ego. Oikawa points out Kunimi and Kindaichi in the background and explains how nothing’s really happened since Iwaizumi’s been busy with these. And for once, Yahaba is fully satisfied.

 

Oikawa is happy to say, "now, we can get back to work."

 

 

 

——-

 

_ days later _

 

——-

 

 

Oikawa runs both his hands through his hair. It’s been a long day, and success is as disorienting as failure. For once, Watari asked him to stay behind instead of ‘go home’ to comb through thick contract proposals and artist collaborations. Watari’s has long since gone home, but Oikawa likes the dead quiet of not just an empty room, but an empty building and having your work all to yourself. The whole of Aoba Josai (what AJ was named after) has been running on adrenaline since it broke sales and it’s been a while since Oikawa was the sole survivor of insane overtime. Oikawa feels like himself again, being the last one working and greeting the morning regardless if the heavy rain makes you sleep or not. It’s 4 am though, time to head home. Now is good. Probably.

 

Oikawa packs up and exits the meeting room. He momentarily wants to scream at the thing that moved on his left. Until he realizes it’s Iwaizumi half asleep on a bench , leaning on an umbrella.

 

“what the actual _hell_ are you doing here??” Oikawa seethes. 

 

“Yahaba” Iwaizumi sounds sleepy. “Yahaba said you never bring umbrellas.”

 

Oikawa frankly wants to murder his assistant for trying to play match-maker. But Iwaizumi checks if said-dead assistant was right anyway. Yup, Oikawa currently has a grand total of zero umbrellas.

 

“So why are you complaining?” Iwaizumi punches the umbrella into Oikawa's gut, grumbles and just stalks off to the gate. Oikawa catches up to him, without a reasonable retort. Iwaizumi opens up the said plain black umbrella and raises it enough for Oikawa to get in.

 

“just one?” Oikawa teases. 

“can you shuttup?” Iwaizumi’s voice is more awake now. It’s mad but also a little embarrassed. They make their way under the heavy rains, through empty streets towards the train station. It’s the first time they’ve seen each other since the official recording, and the texting intimacy, and the proximity due-to-umbrella, which just means Oikawa frankly cannot breathe right now. He has his blood thumping in his head louder than the water hitting pavement. And Iwaizumi is so close, he can count his eyelashes, see the water droplets caught on his knuckles, looking just as tired as he was feeling right now. Oikawa can’t believe it, Iwaizumi waited to take him home. And now they find out they have the same train routes.

 

 

—-

 

 

“uhh”

 

 

Oikawa finds him voice, yeah, he’s going to talk when he’s nervous. Things he’s actually already mentioned through messages but now he’s going to go over again because he wants to see Iwaizumi react in person. They’re standing opposite each other from a metal pole in a half empty train cabin. Early office workers who avoid the morning rush, populate the rest of the cabin staring into their phones. The fluorescent white lights are unflattering, but Oikawa finds it nice, their hands only an inch away from where they’re gripping, but Oikawa tries not to think too hard about that. 

 

“want to listen to something?” 

 

They share earphones as Oikawa narrates through a playlist. It’s what he’s been working on the past week. Iwaizumi nods along but is otherwise absorbed in the music. Their heads lean in close, to make it easier to hear. Oikawa is loathe to admit it but, Iwaizumi’s hushed and low voice in his ear, is making him melt. After some arguing, Oikawa let’s Iwaizumi hear some rough samples where he sings himself and the guitarist is actually helpful about it. 

 

Oikawa would never be able to handle silence in the other side of a chat after sending a risky recording, but is beyond relieved for Iwaizumi to reassure him in real life. He saves that steady gaze and firm voice in his mind’s eye for bad days that come. Cause Oikawa’s ego is pretty big, but he admits, it can be pretty fragile.

 

Their conversation drifts towards Iwaizumi performing oceans with Kiyoko, and if all the talent fees are helping paying the bills. It has, Kunimi is warming up to school and has a light blue green uniform. But it’s the tour that would bring in the more consistent money, Kyoutani could even enroll in sports, he’d be good at it. Oikawa checks youtube viewcount, to reassure iwaizumi this time. 10 million hits in a week, not bad at all..

 

—

 

 

“Our song’s doing pretty well hmm” Oikawa hums, proud. Haughty.

 

“Did you just call it ‘our song’?”

 

Iwaizumi smirks a little.

 

Oikawa wants to kick himself.

 

“Our song arrangement, iwa-chan duh.” he laughs over it to save face.

 

“Right. Cause our song, shouldn’t be so sad right.” 

 

Iwaizumi says it so earnestly Oikawa needs to mentally command his face not to turn into a tomato. He grips tighter on the pole to try to recover his brain matter.

 

“you _wish_ I would write for you Iwa-chan” Oikawa dares.

 

 

 

“am I not there yet?” Iwaizumi replies, confident boyish smile.

 

 

 

 

“you’re really close.” Oikawa bites his lips.

 

“ you just have to try a little harder.” he says softly. Oikawa smiles. It’s flirtatious, his brown eyes playful and beautiful under flushed panic and flattery. He doesn’t mean to but he watches Iwaizumi’s mouth.

 

It reads out ‘oh really now?” and proceeds to not kiss him even when the moment had blaring neon-vegas lights that was asking for it. 

 

Oikawa is screaming inside. The overhead prompter announces they’ve reached their destination. The rain has let out with the sun shining above the clouds and people were getting on and off platforms. Iwaizumi claps his back, saying he’s actually off for his first shift but otherwise had a great time. Oikawa is rendered thoroughly speechless, but manages a barely audible

 

“see yah~”

Before walking the rest of the way home.


	5. Chapter 5

_*iwa-chan is typing*_

 

iwa-chan: [https://ukhealthcare.uky.edu/ENT/vocal/](https://ukhealthcare.uky.edu/ENT/vocal/)

iwa-chan: [https://emedicine.medscape.com/article/864079-treatment](https://emedicine.medscape.com/article/864079-treatment)

 

 

oikawa: i swear if you send me a web md link i will MURDER YOU

 

Oikawa can’t help but chuckle. Really really egg shells kind of topic , but finally letting Iwaizumi broach it felt like being on the receiving end of a tidal wave. The guitarist has been brooding about this for a while, and it shows. 

 

He’s talking about comparative studies of older generations that aged better, with more natural vocal techniques and how modern singers are more prone to injury and surgery. With their crazy high notes ,and even stupider schedules.

 

 

iwa-chan: you can tell even when they’re talking

iwa-chan: there’s tension at the jaw??

 

 

 

*oikawa is typing*

 

_“you’re making me air out old skeletons”_

 

backspace

 

backspace

 

 

backspace, backspace.

 

 

 

oikawa: ive read the entire internet on this topic, TRUSt me. i know

iwa-chan: then did you understand what you were reading? 

iwa-chan: how the fuc did you hurt yourself

 

*oikawa is typing*

 

_“i don’t know, i think i hated myself at that point”_

 

backspace

 

backspace

 

 

 

 

_read 2:24 am_

 

oikawa: idk

oikawa: really iwa-chan

 

iwa-chan: and you swear you’ve tried every specialist and palliative care available?

oikawa: Yes

 

iwa-chan: even tokyo?

oikawa: yess

iwa-chan: microsurgery ?

 

_lying on an operating table with miniature scalpels and forceps attached to foot long poles guided into your throat to excise whatever damaged tissue is robbing the vocal cords of their natural elasticity timbre range, clarity. exposing polyps- using forceps to pull out infected mass from haemorrhaged surfaces. finsih off with a laser treatment to stop excessive bleeding, scarring.._

 

 

iwa-chan: like the one sam smith had?

iwa-chan: hey, trashykawa.

 

oikawa: ugh.

oikawa: no, you know the margin of error in those things

 

iwa-chan: the odds are better now

 

oikawa: iwaaa go away!

oikawa: why bother you know?

oikawa: waste of cash

 

 

 

iwa-chan: i want you to sing with me

iwa-chan: more i mean

 

iwa-chan: i’ll be here to make sure you’re not stupid this time around.

 

*iwa-chan is typing*

 

 

Oikawa switches the conversation window to the BLUE tour heads sugawara and daichi. Don’t exhaust kageyama’s voice. Travel stress can just be as taxing as talking. Concert arrangements can always have longer instrumental rests in between and be equally entertaining. Kageyama is too new to cancel any dates, so longevity is key remember-

 

 

iwa-chan: im sorry that i want that.

 

Oikawa deliberately screws his eyes shut as if it could undo him seeing any of that. all of that. He switches his phone to airplane mode. He doesn’t even need to type it to know the shape of his reply. Plain and simple, the truth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“ i’m sorry too iwaizumi”_

 

 

 

 

_———-_

 

_weeks later_

 

———-

 

 

 

 

Normally, being shipped with a _certain special someone_ , especially when there is something happening between _certain special someone_ and oneself would be a highly enjoyable activity to Oikawa. He’s a creature of attention, and his ears and spine just perk up with invisible antennas when he know’s he being talked about , especially being talked about in association with a _certain special smoking hot guitarist_.

 

(‘Yes i know, it’s extra wonderful to be me.’)

 

 

The issue is they’ve been avoiding each other like a plague, and everyone noticing it and calling it a lover’s quarrel is just making it a thousand times worse. It wasn’t actually a spat. It’s really hard to explain. 

 

 

(‘We just couldn’t see each other eye to eye about the topic-that-must-not-be-named and it got increasingly awkward and busy like a densifying black hole that devoured all our nice messages’) and Yahaba would stop him there, with a 

 

‘you don’t have to explain’.

 

 

Regardless the idea niggled at Oikawa’s mind to a point that it wasn’t about Iwaizumi any more. It was Oikawa and the black hole in his throat. It was Oikawa and being scared. It was Oikawa and feeling like an insecure little shit, black bile coursing up and down his body, regurgitating all past hates, regrets, insecurities,nerves erupting like boils on his skin. 

 

 

_Don’t you dare make me dream again, relive my lost loves and passion, take apart the story that I’ve barely pieced myself together with. I’m happy as a producer. I’m safe. I’m appreciated. Don’t damn me by asking me to try again. Don’t poison me with courage._

 

 

-

 

 

Oikawa’s stomach is crawling with snakes and the local gossip is talking about how a certain producer hasn’t been progressing with any of his work. The anxiety was piling up, licking the internal velocity of the spinning blackness to go faster until a month later Oikawa called in late from a hospital telephone.

 

Iwaizumi has had enough and confronts Oikawa, and luckily they were on the same page. It felt like worlds colliding at the corridor, worried etched over Iwaizumi’s face-

 

“I booked an appointment” Oikawa spits out, in a flat tone. 

 

“It's for surgery- but I’m not doing this for you okay?? I’m made this decision on my own.”

 

He explains that it falls on the first tour date. That he wanted it to be over with as soon as possible, and that he couldn’t get any other slot, and would’ve appreciated Iwaizumi being there as support like he promised but that can’t happen, therapy would be weeks and the nephews and the tour pay, and he’s doing this at his own self-imposed neurotic pace so he’s gonna run with it anyway so wish him luck and-

 

Oikawa, for a moment, is disappointed that Iwaizumi is not impressed. Iwaizumi , is deathly silent for a while before saying

 

“You can ask me to stay.”

 

Yahaba who has so far stood rockstill up to that moment, takes a sharp inhale.

 

_No no no no noonononono_.

 

“i can’t ask you to do that for me, Iwa-chan” Oikawa spits out before he could think about it. “sorry” again. Oikawa sort of hates himself for doing this to Iwaizumi, but it’s not his fault that this boy would care about him so much it hurts. Maybe the distance would make it easy. Maybe it would make it hard. _it would be incredibly selfish._

 

An adjacent studio door bursts open, letting out a small crowd of brass players pass through, calling both the producer and the guitar player back to their work. Oikawa feels simultaneously overwhelmed and fully grounded. Iwaizumi briefly wraps a hand around the Oikawa’s wrist.

 

“tell me _everything_. okay?” he looks away when he says the next part.

 

 

 

“i missed you.”

 

Oikawa can’t find himself to answer that but barely nods, before they’re whisked away for the rest of the day’s work.

 

 

 

 

——

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_despedida party for BLUE_

_tour group_

 

 

 

_Aoba Josai Staff and Studio_

_10:30 pm_

 

 

——

 

 

 

It’s a long day. It’s like wedding jitters except everyone’s the bride, and everyone can’t contain their excitement. It’s one big sentimental, send-off, kick-off, despedida hybrid that felt like a weird crossover of hello world, and goodbye Miyagi and the extended staff aren’t shy about annihilating the extravagant catering.

 

It’s about three hours in, and everyone is hazy with the amount of alcohol.

 

Mattsun, for one, has been elbowing Iwaizumi for a full solid minute.

 

“are we doing it ?”

 

“what”

 

“Just-“ Mattsun proceeds to take out a guitar from it’s casing and “i don’t know what happened but” he switches on a microphone and gives V sign at Makki. “we’re doing it, imean. you’re doing it”

 

Makki proceeds to hit his wine glass with a fork. Announces “may i have your attention” to a curious crowd and leers at Iwaizumi. He mouths ‘use your words’ while Iwaizumi replies with a soundless ‘fuck you’ and a slightly alarmed face. 

 

Expectation piles up from the crowd, when Sugawara taps at Oikawa’s shoulder.

 

 

Iwaizumi plays out very familiar chords on the guitar. It rings out in the multi-purpose hall cum party venue. It’s the main riff of Justin Beiber’s “Sorry”, and 

 

half the crowd can’t believe it. 

 

Iwaizumi himself can’t believe it.

 

And he has the whole I’m a professional performer, but ‘I’m absolutely embarrassed to be doing this’ vibe going on. Mattsun keeps the microphone near his face.

 

 

 

The crowd isn’t imagining it , but iwaizumi’s clearly looking at a _particular special someones_ ’ _table._

 

 

 

(turururum—turururum——)

 

_Is it too late now to say sorry?_

 

 

 

Iwaizumi walks further into the crowd.

 

 

_cause I’m missing morethan just, your body—- oh_

(turururum—turururum——)

Iwaizumi even looks bashful but carries an easily likeable tone.

 

 

 

_Is it toolate now to say —sorry?_

 

That smile- the crowd erupts in collective jeering from the unexpected gesture of affection. Everyone is excited and in a stupid giddy, staring holes at Oikawa’s direction, who is hiding half his face but is still watching.

 

 

_Yeah, I knoo——-ow, that I let you down_

_Is it too late to say I'm sorry now?_

 

 

The party, cause they like to tease, start singing along with him, snapping fingers, cooing parts.

 

_I'm not just trying to get you back on me_

_oh nana_

 

(Loud yelling form the back.)

 

 

_Cause I'm missing more than just your body, ohhh_

 

Iwaizumi’s smile is infectious.

 

_Is it toolate now to say —sorry?_

_Yeah, I knoo——-ow, that I let you down_

_Is it too late to say I'm sorry now?_

 

(turururum—turururum——) sorry

 

Iwaizumi is really near Oikawa’s table and it feels like an overly sappy music video. The unabashed oggling, the public display of affection. A fucking justin beiber ballad for a studio producer who can't look straight at you. Were they even fighting ? Oikawa is suffering second hand embarrassment, because _how did you know i liked Selena_. And you're not the type who does these kinds of things, which makes him feel spoiled even more. Oikawa is stressed out, because makki is putting him on the spot - sticking a microphone in his space.

 

_Iwaizumi sings—I’m sorry(?)_

 

Makki gestures to Oikawa to get in there.

 

(turururum—turururum——)

 

Oikawa barely takes hold of the mic, when Iwaizumi walks up to sing closer to it. like boxing him in, 

_Yeah, I knoo——-ow, that I let you down_

_Is it too late to say I'm sorry now?_

 

Iwaizumi looks at him carefully, like he was touching him with his gaze. Holding him in place like a deer in the headlights. As if the whole room dissolved, even all the lights blown out of focus and there was only this person he liked, who made him feel safe, playing a clean set of chords, with no words but as clear as day was asking him to sing.

  

(turururum—turururum——)

 

 Oikawa dips into the mic, and with a quiet clear tone.

And it became the easiest thing.

 

 

 

                           —- _sorry_

 

(Extreme loud yelling from the back)

Oikawa in this weird high singing into someone else's eyes. Iwaizumi feels his chest tighten to an impossible degree.

 

(turururum—turururum——)

 

 

 

Together: _I’m sorry._

 

 

It was so _crazy,_ everyone knew this was crazy. Kageyama immediately snapped to look at Yahaba's face and it had equal astonishment. Oikawa was singing in public, for a boy, leaving for tour, they were in bad terms and now they’re singing Justin Beiber. It was such an odd thing to hear- Oikawa _actually_ singing, with his real tone, looking into someone’s eyes, meaning every word.

 

 

_Yeah, I knoo——-ow, that I let you down_

_Is it too late to say I'm sorry now?_

 

 

They swore by it - but goosbumps erupted all over the crowd. Tanaka shouted-

“JUST FAU_GETTT A ROOM. YOU TWO."

 

 The tour group was to leave in twenty minutes.

—

 

 

 

Hot sloppy kissing. How else do you describe it? Iwaizumi caged Oikawa to an alley wall and held him like there was no tomorrow. Five month tour - possible extensions, no long legs to tangle yourself in, no fingers wandering in soft brown hair. How did he deprive himself on this for so long? this person, it felt like eternity, that he couldn't grip closer. He literred Oikawa's neck and chin with kisses, like he could drink it. Like he could crowd out all the desperation and confusion and pain, because there was only this moment. It was _bliss_ , where nothing else could co-exist but  the rhythm of their bodies, the heat of skin on skin.

Oikawa comes up for breath. Half whimpering, heart in tears. He could live in these arms.

 

_What the fuck hajime?_

running in his head.

 

He rests a palm on the guitarist's face. Uses the pad of his finger to wipe the other's  cheek.

 

_ What -are we doing? _

 

Iwaizumi ducks his head into Oikawa's shoulder. warm breath, biting into the shell of the producer's ear. it was intoxicating, oikawa gripped harder into the other's rayon jacket.

 

'be mine. please?" he begged. Because he knew it would hurt. like the point of saying sorry first, because there will be obvious pain in the separation.

_ \--be my boyfriend. s _ _ ing  _

_ with me. you can  _

_ dream again _

 

Oikawa's face twists from confusion.

 

"-you keep asking for _really hard things--_ " oikawa half whines, half whispers, but wholly pleased, hugging Iwaizumi tighter.

 

"yes."

iwaizumi litters his face with more sweet kisses.

"yes, yes , yes" oikawa can't see any more, senses flooded, gripping hard on the other man's fingers.

"yes" and just kisses him back.

 

"but you have to go now."

 

And Iwaizumi rips away, leaving Oikawa cold and emptied. It was so fucking sweet. and cruel. Iwaizumi was the last to board on the bus, Oikawa could still remember the headlights mocking him, swallowing the other man whole, in it's miniature cold sun. Oikawa wrapped his clothes closer.

 

"goodnight."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so far successful updating WEEKLY hahaaha, i do my best - leave a comment!


End file.
